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0L1U] NT 


CLEMENT: 


OR, 


TRUE  STORIES  ABOUT  CONSCIENCE 


BY  THE  COMMITTEE  OF  PUBLICATION  OV 
AMERICAN  SUNDAY-SCHOOL  UNION. 


AMERICAN   SUNDAY-SCHOOL    UNION: 

,  1121 CHESTNUT  STREET,  PHILADELPHIA. 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1846,  by 
the  American  Sunday-eehool  Union,  in  the  clerk's  office  of  the 
District  Court  of  the  Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


CLEMENT; 


TRUE  STORIES  ABOUT  CONSCIENCE. 


Clement  is  a  little  boy,  whom 
I  love  for  the  sake  of  his  good  fa- 
ther and  mother.  They  are  kind 
and  dear  friends  of  mine;  and  as 
they,  and  all  his  brothers  and  sis- 
ters, are  far,  far  away  from  him,  1 
like  to  go  and  see  him  sometimes, 
and  then  to  write  and  tell  them  all 
I  can  about  him. 

The  first  time  I  saw  Clement,  he 
was  at  the  house  of  the  ladies  into 
whose  hearts  God  had  put  it  to 
watch  over  him  as  carefully  and 

1*  5 


6  CLEMENT. 

tenderly  as  if  he  had  been  their  own 
little  son.  Of  course,  he  looked  at 
me  as  a  stranger;  hut  we  soon 
seemed  to  know  each  other,  after 
talking  about  his  father  and  mother, 
and  other  things  interesting  to  us 
both.  Ever  since  that  time,  he  has 
always  looked  pleased  to  see  me, 
and  has  liked  to  seat  himself  on  my 
lap,  and  to  tell  me  of  the  letters  that 
he  receives  from  his  dear  parents, 
and  of  much  besides,  such  as  little 
boys  and  girls  generally  find  it  plea- 
sant to  speak  of,  to  those  who  really 
love  them,  and  are  interested  about 
them. 

But  the  last  time  I  went  to  see 
Clement,  as  soon,  almost,  as  he  came 
into  the  room  to  me,  I  thought  he    * 
did  not  look  so  bright  and  cheerful 


CLEMENT.  7 

as  usual ;  and  though  I  could  not 
find  out  any  reason  for  it,  it  seemed 
to  me,  as  we  talked  together,  that 
his  face  looked  quite  as  different 
from  what  I  had  before  seen  it,  as 
a  cloudy  sky  does  from  a  bright 
one.  This  cloud  on  Clement's 
brow  did  not  look  at  all  pleasant ; 
and  I  wondered  what  had  brought 
it  there.  I  thought  he  might  have 
a  little  headache,  or  be  tired,  01 
have  some  other  uncomfortable 
feeling,  not  worth  complaining 
about ;  and  so  I  said  nothing  about 
u  to  him :  only  I  felt  sorry  for  him, 
poor  little  boy !  at  the  time  ;  and  I 
remembered  it  afterwards,  and  had 
uot  therefore  quite  such  a  pleasant 
recollection  of  that  visit  as  of  some 
others  which  I  had  paid  him.    1  do 


8  CLEMENT. 

not  recollect  that  I  suspected,  id 
the  least,  the  true  cause  of  the 
clouded  brow.  I  wonder  whether 
you  do,  as  you  read  now  about 
him,  and  observe  the  whole  title  of 
this  little  book. 

It  was  not  till  some  weeks  after 
this,  that  the  kind  lady  who  takes 
care  of  Clement  came  to  call  on 
me.  He  was  not  with  her ;  but  of 
course  I  asked  after  him ;  and  she 
told  me  he  was  well,  and  good,  and 
happy — which  are  the  three  things 
we  best  like  to  be  told,  about  our 
friends.  I  then  mentioned  what 
had  struck  me  the  last  day  I  had 
seen  him. 

"  Oh,"  she  answered  directly. 
"  Clement  was  not  happy  then.  He 
had  not  been  at  all  a  good  boy  the 


CLEMENT.  9 

few  days  before;  and  he  did  not 
know  but  I  might  tell  you  so ;  but 
at  any  rate  he  could  not  feel  com- 
fortably" 

I  dare  say  you  can  easily  guess 
what  was  my  first  feeling  on 
hearing  this;  it  was,  that  I  was 
very  sorry  my  dear  Clement  had 
not  been  a  good  boy :  but  perhaps 
you  could  hardly  guess  my  se- 
cond ;  which  was,  that  I  was  glad, 
very  glad,  he  had  felt  that  at  that 
time  he  could  not  be  comfortable. 
Shall  I  tell  you  why  I  felt  glad 
of  this  ?  It  was  because  it  proved 
to  me  that  Clement  had  a  con- 
science, awake  and  watchful,  to 
point  out  to  him  the  difference  be- 
tween right  and  wrong;  and  this 
is  a  real  blessing  to  any  of  us,  even 


12  CLEMENT. 

ment,  you  would  almost  rather 
they  should  not  have  interrupted 
you  so ;  but  afterwards  you  have 
been  glad  and  thankful  that  they 
helped  to  keep  you,  in  this  way, 
from  either  doing  the  thing  you 
ought  not,  or  leaving  undone  the 
thing  you  ought  to  have  done. 
Now  just  such  a  friend,  if  you 
really  wish  it,  you  may  have  al- 
ways at  your  side,  to  whisper  to 
you,  (unheard  by  any  one  but  your- 
self,) not  only  of  things  to  be  done  or 
not  done,  and  words  to  be  spoken 
or  not  spoken ;  but  of  thoughts  and 
feelings,  too,  that  may  be  passing 
through  your  mind,  unseen  and 
unheard  by  the  dearest  of  those 
around  you,  and  that  may  in  some 
way  or  other   "  belong    to    your 


CLEMENT.  13 

peace."  This  friend,  need  I  tell 
you,  is  called  "  Conscience  ;"  and 
it  is  a  friend,  not  only  to  help  you 
while  you  are  a  child,  and  know 
so  little,  that  you  need  some  one 
every  day  and  every  hour  to  show 
you  the  way  you  should  take  ;  but 
a  friend  to  be  your  helper  all  your 
life  long,  however  old,  or  however 
wise,  or  however  good  you  may 
grow. 

You  know  what  a  great  and  good 
man  the  apostle  Paul  was ;  but  do 
you  know  what  he  said  about  hi* 
conscience  ?  When  wicked  men 
who  hated  him  because  he  loved 
Jesus,  accused  him  falsely,  and 
wished  to  punish  him  unjustly,  he 
felt,  (as  he  writes  in  one  of  his  epis- 
tles or  letters  to  the  church  at  Co- 


1 4  CLEMENT. 

rinth,)  that  with  him  it  was  "  a  very 
small  thing  to  he  judged  of  man's 
judgment;"  hut  he  said,  (as  you 
will  find  it  written  in  the  24th 
chapter  of  the  book  of  Acts,)  "Here- 
in do  I  exercise  myself,  to  have  al- 
ways a  conscience  void  of  offence 
toward  God  and  toward  men :"  in 
other  words, "  This  is  the  thing  I  am 
always  diligently  striving  after, — 
not  to  let  my  o\vn  conscience  have 
any  thing  to  accuse  me  of,  either 
against  God  or  against  men."  And 
so  "  exercising  himself,"  he  went 
on  serving  God,  and  doing  good  to 
men,  through  evil  report  and  good 
report,  as  a  faithful  servant  and  sol- 
dier of  Jesus  Christ,  unto  his  life's 
end.  So  you  see  even  that  holy 
apostle  wished  to  have  the  same 


CLEMENT.  15 

friend  always  near  him,  that  spoke, 
as  I  have  told  you,  to  little  Cle- 
ment ;  only  it  was  to  keep  the 
apostle  happy,  hy  keeping  him 
from  sin,  while  it  was  to  make 
Clement  for  a  time  unhappy,  by 
reminding  him  of  sin.  Do  not  you 
wish  your  conscience  may  he  more 
and  more  like  that  of  the  apostle  ? 
Then  listen  attentively  to  all  it  says 
to  you,  and  do  directly  all  it  bids 
you  ;  and  it  will  "  grow  with  your 
growth,  and  strengthen  with  your 
strength,"  and  be  one  of  your 
greatest  blessings  so  long  as  you 
live. 

My  visit  to  Clement  made  me 
think  very  much  about  all  this,  and 
wish  to  say  something  to  other  little 
boys  or  girls  that  might  help  them 


16  CLEMENT. 

to  make  the  right  use  of  the  friend, 
conscience,  which  God  has,  in  his 
mercy,  sent  to  have  its  home  in 
their  hosoms.  And  do  you  know, 
that  just  while  I  was  so  thinking 
about  it,  I  paid  a  visit  to  another 
dear  little  boy,  whose  conscience,  I 
found,  was  making  him  afraid,  too, 
and  of  whom  I  will  tell  you. 

Reginald's  mother  is  a  friend  of 
mine,  whom  I  love  much,  and  often 
go  to  see ;  and  when  I  do  so,  he  is 
almost  sure  to  come  and  give  me  a 
kiss,  and  have  something  or  other 
to  tell  me  about ;  often  bringing 
me  the  account  his  mother  keeps 
of  his  behaviour  from  day  to  day, 
from  which  I  can  soon  see  whether 
or  not  he  has  been  "  exercising 
himself"  to  keep  his  u  conscience 


CLEMENT.  1? 

void  of  offence. "  This  summer 
Reginald  and  his  mother  were 
away  from  home  for  some  time,  so 
that  I  was  longer  than  usual  with- 
out seeing  them  ;  and  the  first  visit 
I  paid  them  after  they  came  hack, 
I  expected  him  to  run  and  meet 
me,  and  that  he  would  be  glad  to 
see  me  again.  Instead  of  this, 
though  I  heard  his  voice  in  the 
next  room,  and  some  one  telling 
him  I  was  with  his  mother,  he  did 
not  come  near  us.  I  waited  a  mi- 
nute or  two,  and  then  went  to  the 
door  to  call  him.  But  no,  he  did 
not  wish  to  see  me,  and  so  ran  out 
directly  at  another  door.  His  mo- 
ther then  began  to  tell  me  why 
this  was  ;  but  do  you  know,  almost 
before  she  had  said  a  word,  the 


1 8  CLEMENT. 

thought  of  Clement  came  into  my 
mind,  and  I  felt  nearly  sure  that 
conscience  was  reminding  Reginald 
of  something  set  down  in  his  book 
which  made  him  ashamed  to  show 
it  to  me,  and  afraid  I  should  ask  to 
see  it.  Poor  Reginald !  I  felt  sor- 
ry for  him,  as  I  had  done  before  for 
Clement.  But  there  was  another 
thought,  a  very  solemn  one,  that 
his  fear  of  my  seeing  the  book 
brought  to  my  mind;  and  it  was 
this, — there  is  a  day  coming,  when 
f?  the  judgment  shall  be  set,  and  the 
books  shall  be  opened  ;"  and  even 
though  we  should  say  to  the  moun- 
tains and  rocks,  "Fall  on  us,  and 
hide  us  from  the  face  of  Him  that 
sitteth  on  the  throne,"  it  will  be 
impossible  for  us  to  escape:    we 


CLEMENT.  19 

must  stand  before  the  Judge  of 
quick  and  dead,  to  be  judged  by 
him,  out  of  his  book,  for  the  things 
we  have  done  in  the  body. 

Have  you  ever  felt  afraid  or 
ashamed  that  a  kind  earthly  friend 
should  know  any  thing  you  have 
been  doing  wrong  ?  Think,  then, 
of  the  eye  of  your  best,  your  hea- 
venly Friend,  always  upon  you  ; 
and  of  the  account  he  keeps  in  his 
book  of  all  you  do,  and  say,  and 
think,  and  feel,  every  day  and  all 
day  ;  yes,  even  of  the  "  idle  word," 
and  the  "thought  of  foolishness," 
which  he  calls  sin,  though  we  may 
forget  them  as  soon  as  they  are 
past.  You  may  say,  "  Why  is  he 
so  strict  to  mark  what  is  done 
amiss  ?"  or,  as  David  said,  "  If  thou, 


20  CLEMENT. 

Lord,  shouldest  mark  iniquity.  O 
Lord,  who  shall  stand  ?"  And  this 
is  just  the  point  we  must  come  to. 
No  one,  not  the  holiest  person  that 
ever  lived  upon  earth,  could  stand 
before  him,  in  that  great  and  terri- 
ble day,  as  "  void  of  offence,"  and 
so  be  accounted  just  and  righteous 
in  his  sight :  and  there  can  be  no 
repentance,  no  prayer  for  pardon 
heard  then.  All  that  has  been  left 
standing  in  the  judgment-book  till 
that  day,  must  be  read  before  men 
and  angels,  to  the  everlasting  shame 
of  those  who  never  thought  of  it 
before.  What,  then,  must  we  do 
now,  that  we  may  then  with  joy 
appear  before  the  Judge's  face.  We 
cannot,  indeed,  any  of  us,  by  our  ut- 


CLEMENT.  21 

most  trying,  "  keep  our  conscience 
void  of  past  offence"  toward  the 
heart-searching  God :  but  he  tells 
us,  in  his  holy  word,  that  our  con- 
science may  be  purified  by  the 
blood  of  his  Son,  and  sanctified  by 
his  Holy  Spirit;  and  though  it 
would  be  impossible  to  make  you 
understand  now  half  that  is  meant 
by  such  words,  which  encourage 
and  comfort  us  wrhen  our  sins 
would  otherwise  fill  us  with  dread, 
yet  there  is  much  in  them  that 
you  can  both  understand  and  re- 
member, and  that  may  help  to 
prepare  you  to  "  stand  faultless  be- 
fore the  presence  of  his  glory,  wTith 
exceeding  joy." 
You  know,  I  suppose,  that  pre- 


22  CLEMENT. 

cious  text,  "The  blood  of  Jesm 
Christ  his  Son  cleanseth  us  from 
all  sin."  So  when  commence 
brings  sin  to  your  remembrance, 
the  first  thing  you  have  to  do,  is 
not  to  think  how  you  can  manage 
to  hide  it,  but  to  go  and  confess  it 
to  God,  asking  him  to  blot  it  out  of 
his  book  with  the  blood  of  Jesus ; 
and  then  to  give  you  the  help  of 
his  Holy  Spirit  in  time  to  come, 
to  show  you  what  is  wrong,  and 
strengthen  you  to  strive  against  it. 
When  you  have  done  this,  in  truth 
and  sincerity,  you  will  perhaps  be 
surprised  to  find  of  how  much  less 
consequence  it  will  seem  to  you, 
whether  any  one  else  knows  of  your 
sin  or  not.  Indeed,  I  expect  you 
will  feel  that  what  is  still  wanting. 


CLEMENT.  23 

before  your  conscience  is  "  void  of 
offence"  again,  is  to  go  and  own  it 
likewise  to  whoever  you  may  have 
offended  on  earth,  and  ask  their 
forgiveness  also.  It  is  in  this  way, 
whether  we  are  young  or  old,  that 
we  are  to  look  to  have  our  "  con- 
sciences purged  from  dead  works, 
to  serve  the  living  God." 

And  now  here  I  really  must  tell 
you  another  little  true  story — not 
of  any  one  I  have  known  myself, 
but  of  a  very  good  man,  now  gone 
to  heaven,  whose  life  I  have  read  ; 
for  it  seems  exactly  fitted  to  show 
you  how  a  child  may  feel  as  to  what 
I  have  just  been  saying  to  you. 

Samuel  Kilpin's  father  and  mo- 
ther kept  a  shop;  and  one  day, 
when  he  was   about  seven  years 


24  CLEMENT. 

old,  they  went  out,  and  trusted 
him  to  take  care  of  all  that  was  in 
it,  believing  him  to  be  a  faithful, 
trust-worthy  little  boy.  And  so 
he  was  in  general ;  but  we  none  of 
us  know  how  weak  we  may  be  till 
a  temptation  comes  to  try  us,  nor 
how  much  need  we  have  to  pray 
that  God  would  keep  us  always 
listening  to  the  voice  of  conscience, 
66  lest  Satan  should  gain  an  advan- 
tage over  us."  While  little  Samuel 
was  left  in  charge,  a  man  passed 
with  pretty  little  white  toy-lambs 
to  sell,  for  a  penny  each.  Samuel 
had  not  a  penny  of  his  own ;  but 
he  thought  he  should  like  very 
much  to  have  one  of  these  pretty 
playthings;  and  so  he  went  to  a 
drawer  in  the  shop,  and  took  a 


CLEMENT.  U5 

penny  that  was  not  his,  to  buy  a 
lamb.  When  his  mother  came 
home,  and  saw  the  lamb,  she  asked 
how  he  paid  for  it ;  and  he  made 
her  believe  that  he  had  done  so 
honestly.  The  lamb  was  put  safe- 
ly on  the  chimney-piece,  for  Sa 
muel,  and  any  one  else  who  looked 
that  way,  to  admire  it;  and  so 
several  persons  did ;  but  the  sight 
of  it  made  him  as  miserable  as  if  it 
could  have  spoken,  and  said  to*  him, 
"  Thou  shalt  not  steal ;  thou  shalt 
not  lie."  At  last,  in  sad  distress, 
he  went  out  into  a  hay-loft,  where 
he  could  be  quite  alone,  and  there 
confessed  his  sin  before  God,  with 
tears  and  groans,  begging  mercy 
and  pardon  for  Jesus'  sake.  He 
then  felt  comforted,  and  even  joy- 


26  CLEMENT. 

ful,  thinking  the  text  might  be 
meant  for  him,  "  Thy  sins,  which 
are  many,  are  forgiven."  He  re- 
turned to  his  mother,  told  her  all, 
and  burned  the  lamb,  which  could 
never  have  given  him  any  pleasure ; 
while,  he  says,  "  she  wept  over  her 
young  penitent." 

I  have  read  many  other  true 
stories,  that  show  the  comfort  and 
happiness,  even  to  a  little  boy  or 
girl,K)f  what  the  hymn  calls — 

"  A  conscience  as  the  noon-day  clear ;" 

that  is,  one  that,  by  the  grace  of 
God's  Holy  Spirit,  is  so  kept,  that 
it  brings  no  dark  clouds  with  it, 
because  it  does  not  accuse,  but  ex- 
cuse. But  none  of  these  come 
to  my  mind  just  now.  I  only 
remember  what  we  rpad  of  old 


CLEMENT.  27 

Socrates,  one  of  the  wisest  and 
best  of  the  ancient  Grecian  philoso- 
phers, as  they  were  called,  (that  is, 
lovers  of  learning ;)  who;  when 
some  of  his  fellow-countrymen 
condemned  him  to  be  put  to  death, 
though  he  had  done  nothing  at  all 
to  deserve  it,  took  the  cup  of  poison 
(which  they  said  he  should  drink) 
calmly  in  his  hand,  and  as  one  of 
his  friends  standing  by  began,  with 
tears,  to  complain  that  such  a  good 
old  man  should  die  innocent,  inter 
rupted  him,  saying,  "  What !  would 
you  have  me  die  guilty?"  He  felt 
at  that  moment-— though  Socrates, 
alas !  had  not  the  Bible,  as  we  have, 
to  teach  him  about  conscience — 
that  it  was  less  dreadful  to  be  ac- 
cused, or  punished,  or  even  put  to 


28  CLEMENT. 

death,  when  he  knew  he  was  inno- 
cent, than  it  would  have  been  to 
have  lived  and  yet  felt  himself 
guilty. 

And  now,  dear  children,  I  have 
come  to  the  end  of  my  true  stories 
about  conscience ;  and  I  only  wish 
you  to  listen  attentively  to  the  lit- 
tle I  have  further  to  say  to  you 
about  conscience  itself.  I  wish  to 
charge  you  to  keep  in  mind,  that  it 
is  of  the  greatest  possible  conse- 
quence you  should  never  turn  a 
deaf  ear  to  the  voice  of  conscience, 
lest,  finding  you  not  inclined  to  lis- 
ten, your  friend  should  speak  less 
and  less,  and  at  la?t  leave  you  un- 
disturbed, to  "  eat  of  the  fruit  of 
your  own  way,  and  be  filled  with 
your   own    devices."      You    little 


CLEMENT.  29 

know  how  awful  that  would  be. 
Strange  as  it  may  seem,  what  we 
call  a  tender  conscience — that  is, 
one  that  is  easily  made  uncomfort- 
able by  the  thought  of  doing  wrong 
— is  the  one  to  keep  you  happiest, 
as  well  as  safest.     For  the  ways  of 

God  are  the  ways  of  pleasantness 

• 

and  peace,  while  it  is  an  evil  and 
a  bitter  thing  to  sin  against  him, 
whether  or  not  we  find  it  so  at  the 
time  we  do  the  wrong  thing.  If 
not  listened  to  till  the  sin  has  been 
committed,  it  will  becmoe  an  ac- 
cusing conscience,  to  fill  us  with 
shame  when  the  pleasures  of  sin 
are  all  over  Such  was  Samuei 
Kilpin's.  But  it  was  far  better 
that  it  should  keep  his  sin,  as  it 
did,  constantly  before  him,  till  he 


30  CLEMENT. 

had  confessed  and  forsaken  it 
For  sometimes,  when  people  have 
determined  not  to  attend  to  what 
conscience  has  said  to  them,  it 
has  at  last  quite  left  off  trying  to 
lead  them  to  repentance  for  the 
past,  or  watchfulness  for  the  fu- 
ture, and  so  hecome  first  a  slum- 
bering, and  at  last  a  hardened  con- 
science. 

I  have  read  of  a  poor  wretched 
man  who,  thus  setting  at  nought 
all  the  counsels  and  reproofs  of 
conscience,  went  on  from  bad  to 
worse,  till  at  last  he  was  tempted 
to  commit  the  awful  sin  of  mur- 
der. No  one  saw  it,  no  one  knew 
it,  no  one  suspected  it.  Years  pass- 
ed away,  and  it  seemed  almost  for- 
gotten.     But    conscience    awoke 


CLEMENT.  31 

from  her  slumber,  and  ho  found 
indeed  that 

"  Her  voice  was  terrible,  though  soft ;" 

so  terrible  that  he  could  get  no 
peace  day  or  night,  alone  or  in 
company.  At  last  he  could  en- 
dure it  no  longer.  He  determined 
to  go  himself,  and  confess  his  crime 
to  the  officers  of  justice,  and  bear 
the  punishment  of  his  iniquity. 
He  did  so,  and  he  died  the  fearful 
death  of  a  murderer. 

I  cannot  tell  you  whether  this 
poor  miserable  man  found  mercy 
with  God,  who  saw  his  sin,  and 
saw  also  his  misery  because  of  it. 
We  can  only  hope  he  did,  and 
leave  it  among  God's  "secret 
things.'       But    there     are    those 


32  CLEMENT. 

whose  consciences,  once  lulled  to 
sleep,  wake  no  more  till  a  dying 
moment,  nor  even  till  they  stand 
before  the  bar  of  God,  their  Judge, 
who  will  then  "  set  all  their  most 
secret  sins  in  the  light  of  hi? 
countenance,"  and  then  "  there  re- 
maineth  no  more  sacrifice  for  sin." 
To  such,  conscience  must  live  ever 
after,  to  be  to  them  as  "  the  worm 
that  never  dieth,"  and  "the  fire 
that  is  never  quenched." 

Dear  children,  these  are  solemn, 
most  solemn  thoughts;  are  they 
not  ?  I  do  not  wish  to  make  you 
sad  with  them.  I  only  wish  you 
should  learn  so  to  treat  the  messen 
ger  from  God,  (as  I  have  heard 
conscience  called,)  as  that  you  may 


CLEMENT.  33 

find  it,  not  your  accuser,  not  your 
terror,  but  your  kind  and  faithful 
and  precious  friend.  Do  not  wish 
to  silence  it.  Do  not  bid  it  be 
quiet,  even  though  it  should  come 
to  you  with  the  sort  of  message  it 
bore  to  Clement,  to  Reginald,  or  to 
Samuel  Kilpin.  Wish  and  strive 
and  pray  that  it  may  rather  speak 
as  it  did  to  the  holy  apostle. 

Only  listen  attentively  and  rea- 
dily to  its  gentle  voice,  from  the 
very  first  of  your  being  able  to  un- 
derstand it ;  and  then,  though  you 
may  be  humbled  by  its  words  of 
needful  warning,  or  of  faithful  re- 
proof, it  will  never  be  a  tormentor, 
and  rarely  an  accuser :  its  home  in 
your    bosom  will   be  a   peaceful 


34  CLEMENT. 

place  ;  and,  by  the  blessing  of  Gud 
the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy 
Spirit,  it  will  surely  "  do  you  good, 
and  not  evil,  all  the  days  of  your 
life." 

There  is  a  hymn  about  con- 
science, that  I  learned  when  I  was 
a  little  girl,  and  that  every  year 
since  I  have  learned  the  truth  of, 
more  and  more.  It  is  one  that  all 
little  boys  and  girls  would  do  well 
to  learn  and  to  recollect ;  and  with 
it,  therefore,  I  will  end  all  I  have 
to  say  at  present  about  con 
science : — 

When  a  foolish  thought  within 

Tries  to  take  us  in  a  snare, 
Conscience  tells  as,  "  It  is  sin/ 

And  entreats  us  to  beware 


CLEMENT.  35 

If  in  something  we  transgress, 

And  are  tempted  to  deny, 
Conscience  says,  "  Your  fault  confess  ; 

Do  not  dare  to  tell  a  lie.' 

In  the  morning,  when  we  rise, 

And  would  fain  omit  to  pray, 
"Child,  consider,"  conscience  cries  ; 

"  Should  not  God  be  sought  to-day  ? 

When,  within  his  holy  walls, 
Far  abroad  our  thoughts  we  send. 

Conscience  often  loudly  calls, 
And  entreats  us  to  attend. 

When  our  angry  passions  rise, 

Tempting  to  revenge  an  ill, 
**  Now  subdue  it,"  conscience  cries  ; 

*  Do  command  your  temper  still.' 

Thus,  without  our  will  or  choice. 

This  good  monitor  within, 
With  a  secret,  gentle  voice, 

Warns  us  to  beware  of  sin. 


36 


CLEMENT. 


But  if  we  should  disregard, 

While  this  friendly  voice  would  call 
Conscience  soon  will  grow  so  hard 

That  it  will  not  speak  at  all. 


THE   END. 


THE 


LITTLE  TE-TOTALLER; 


OB, 


TRUE  LIBERTY. 


FOB  THE  AMEBIC  AN  SUNDAY-SCHOOL  UNIOK,  kW 
KSYI8ED  BY  THE  COMM.TTEE  OF  PUBLICATION. 


AMERICAN   SUNDAY-SCHOOL   UNION, 

1123  CHESTNUT    ST.,   PHILADELPHIA. 


En  ,  >red  accoriing  to  act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1844,  by 
Herman  Cope,  Treasurer,  in  trust  for  the  American  Sunday- 
school  Union,  in  the  clerk's  office  of  tje  District  Court  of  tha 
Hftf  tern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


THE  LITTLE  TE-TOTALLER. 


"Father,"  cried  little  Harry 
Mills,  (coming  in  apparently  in  a 
state  of  great  excitement,)  "  I  have 
been  trying  all  the  afternoon  to  get 
John  Carey  to  join  the  total  absti- 
nence society,  and  I  have  brought 
up  all  the  reasons  I  could  think  of, 
to  bring  him  to  do  it,  but  he  says 
he  never  will;  and  to  every  thing  I 
say  he  has  the  same  answer,  that 
"  his  father  says  he  is  not  going  to 
sign  away  his  liberty  by  putting 
his  name  to  any  such  paper,  and  he 

means  to  do  as  his  father  does." 
1*  5 


6  THE    TE-TOTALLER. 

"Does  John  appear  to  pay  as 
much  regard  to  his  father's  opinion 
in  every  thing  else,  Harry?"  asked 
Mr.  Mills. 

"  No,  father,  indeed  he  does  not. 
He  disobeys  him  when  ever  he  can 
get  a  chance,  and  he  seems  to  enjoy 
nothing  so  much  as  doing  the  very 
things  that  his  father  has  ordered 
him  not  to  do.  And  when  I  speak 
to  him  about  it,  and  ask  him  how 
he  can  behave  so,  he  says,  '  Well, 
Harry,  if  my  father  ever  spoke  to 
me  as  kindly  as  your  father  does 
to  you,  I  should  love  to  mind  him. 
But  now-a-days  he  is  always  so 
cross,  and  scolds  me,  and  knocks  me 
about  so,  that  I  do  not  care  whether 
I  mind  him  or  not,  and  indeed  I 


TH*.    TE-TOTAL.LER.  7 

never  mean  to  mind  him,  except 
when  I  cannot  help  myself.' " 

"  Oh,  then,"  said  Mr.  Mills,  "  we 
see  the  effect  of  neighbour  Carey's 
not  being  willing  to  'sign  away 
his  liberty,'  as  he  calls  it.  I  am 
afraid  he  has  already  given  himself 
in  to  the  power  of  a  merciless 
tyrant,  and  that  he  will  find  it  a 
hard  matter,  even  if  he  wishes  it, 
ever  to  get  his  freedom  again." 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  you  mean, 
father.  Mr.  Carey  spei^s  every 
evening  at  the  tavern,  and  John  is 
oeginning  to  like  to  lounge  about 
such  places  too,  and  he  is  getting 
m  with  a  set  of  very  bad  boys,  who 
think  it  manly  to  drink  and  smoke 
and  chew  tobacco,  and  John  is  try- 


8  THE    TE-TO TALLER. 

mg  to  learn  to  do  such  things  too, 
though  1  know  it  has  made  him 
dreadfullj  sick  every  time.  And 
this  is  the  reason  why  I  have  tried 
so  hard  to  get  him  to  join  the  tem 
perance  society.  He  thinks  a  great 
deal  of  you,  father,  because  you 
always  speak  so  kindly  to  him,  an# 
1  think  any  thing  you  might  say 
would  have  a  great  deal  of  in- 
fluence upon  him.  I  asked  him  to 
come  here  to-night  to  help  me  put 
together  my  new  dissected  map, 
and  I  think  if  you  would  talk  to 
him  then  you  could  soon  get  him 
to  join  the  society." 

^  I  certainly  will,  my  son,  and 
earnestly  hope  that  with  God's  help 
We  may  he  able  to  save  this  poor 


THE    TE-TOTALLER.  9 

boy,  who  seems  already  to  be  taking 
the  first  steps  in  the  road  to  ruin." 

That  evening  John  came,  (as 
Harry  expected,)  to  see  the  dis- 
sected map.  Harry  had  asked  him 
to  come,  to  get  him  out  of  the  way 
of  the  wicked  boys,  with  whom  he 
had  become  intimate,  for  he  was 
determined  to  treat  him  with  kind- 
ness and  attention,  and  not  to  give 
him  up  so  long  as  he  thought  there 
was  any  hope  of  kim.  After  they 
had  been  playing  a  while  together, 
Mr,  Mills  went  into  the  room 
where  they  were,  and  sitting  down 
at  the  table  with  them,  he  began 
to  talk  in  a  kind  and  fatherly 
manner  to  John. 

"  Harry  tells  me,  John,"  said  he, 


10  THE    TE-TOTALL.ER. 

'•  that  he  has  heen  trying  to  induce 
you  to  join  the  total  abstinence 
society,  hut  has  so  far  been  unsuc- 
cessful. Now,  my  boy,  I  want  you 
to  talk  to  me  just  as  you  would  to 
Harry  or  any  other  of  the  boys,  and 
tell  me  plainly  your  reasons  for  not 
wishing  to  join,  and  then  I  will 
give  you  the  reasons  why  I  think 
it  very  important  that  you  should 
do  so.  I  talk  with  men  every  day 
of  my  life  who  ate  opposed  to  tem- 
perance societies  ;  and  they  speak 
out  and  tell  me  their  objections  to 
them,  and  we  each  talk  for  our  own 
side.  Now,  John,  do  not  be  afraid 
to  do  so  too,  but  tell  me  candidly 
what  are  your  reasons  for  not  wish- 
ing to  join  this  society  ?" 


THE    TE-TOTAI^LER.  11 

*  Why,  sir,  I  have  not  thought 
much  about  it,"  answered  John  ; 
"  and  I  have  not  many  reasons  to 
give,  except  that  I  do  not  see  the  use 
of  it.  I  have  heard  father  and  Mr. 
Green  and  Mr.  Smith  talk  about 
it,  and  they  say  they  never  mean  to 
sign  away  their  liberty  by  putting 
their  names  to  a  paper  saying  that 
they  will  never  drink  any  thing. 
They  say  they  never  mean  to  be 
drunkards,  and  that  they  can  give  up 
drinking  when  they  like,  without 
binding  themselves  by  a  pledge !" 

"  Oh !"  said  Mr.  Mills,  shaking 
his  head,  "  if  this  were  true  !  But 
the  difficulty  is,  a  man  that  once 
begins  to  drink  cannot  stop  when 
he  chooses,  but  instead  of  '  signing 


12  THE    TE-TOTALLER, 

away  his  liberty'  by  simply  pledg 
ing  himself  to  abstain  from  intoxi- 
cating drinks,  he  gives  himself  up, 
body  and  soul,  to  the  worst  bondage 
a  man  can  be  under.  There  is  not 
a  slave  on  earth  so  degraded,  or 
who  has  so  completely  lost  his 
liberty,  as  the  man  who  has  allowed 
the  love  of  strong  drink  to  get  the 
mastery  of  him.  I  have  seen  many  a 
man,  John,  who  was  not  going  to 
'  sign  away  his  liberty,'  (for  this  is 
a  very  favourite  phrase  with  those 
who  are  not  willing  to  give  up 
drinking,)  and  who '  never  intended 
to  be  a  drunkard,'  who  would  be 
amazed  to  be  told  that  his  friends 
already  looked  upon  him  as  a  lost 
man.     Why,  my  boys,  I  have  been 


THE    TEETOTALLER.  13 

in  the  court-room  all  day,  to-day, 

engaged  in  the  trial  of  a  man  for  the 

murder  of  his  own  little  son,  under 

the  most   brutal   and    aggravated 

circumstances.  I  cannot  bear  to  tell 

the  dreadful  tale ;  and  the  evidence 

I  was  obliged  to  listen  to  to-day 

made  my  blood  freeze  with  horror. 

This  much  I  will  tell  you.  The  man 

took  his  little  boy  one  day,  and  for 

some  trifling  offence  began  to  beat 

him,  and  he  beat  him  till  he  wras 

tired   and  the  little  boy  covered 

with  Mood,  and  then  he  sent  him 

out  to  his  aunt's,  (the  man's  sister 

who  lived  with  him,)  and  told  him 

to  have  the  blood  washed  off  and 

come  back  to  him.  Then  he  locked 

him  in  a  room  and  left  him  enough 
2 


14  THE    TE-TOTAELER. 

to  eat  and  drink  to  revive  him  a 
little,  and  the  next  day  at  the  same 
hour  returned  to  the  poor  little  suf- 
ferer, and  treated  him  in  the  same 
brutal  manner,  till,  at  the  end  of 
*he  sixth  or  seventh  day,  the  little 
boy  died. 

" i  What  a  cruel  wretch !'  you  will 
be  ready  to  exclaim,  and  yet,  boys, 
you  will  be  as  much  surprised 
as  I  was  to  hear  that,  from  the 
testimony  of  those  who  lived  about 
him,  he  appears  to  have  borne  a 
very  fair  character,  '  a  little  surly, 
at  times,'  his  neighbours  said,  but 
on  the  whole  kind  and  obliging  ; 
they  had  never  seen  him  intoxi- 
cated, and  never  had  an  idea  that  he . 
was  in  the  habit  of  drinking;  ardent 


THE    TE-TOTAEEER.  15 

spirits.  The  man  himself,  when 
asked  to  join  a  temperance  society t 
said  he  was  not  going  to  ;  sign  away 
his  liberty,'  and  'he  never  meant 
to  be  a  drunkard  !'  But  though  he 
was  never  seen  actually  intoxicated, 
you  see  he  drank  enough  to  take 
away  his  reason,  and  make  a  per- 
fect brute  of  him.  And  so  madden- 
ing was  the  influence  of  the  poison 
upon  a  naturally  high  temper,  that 
it  appeared  by  the  testimony  of  a 
woman  who  lived  wTith  him,  that 
if,  when  under  the  excitement  of 
strong  drink,  he  had  no  other  crea- 
ture to  abuse,  he  would  go  out  and 
beat  his  horses,  who  were  tied  in 
their  stalls,  till  he  was  perfectly  ex- 
hausted.    This  man  began  to  be;** 


16  THE    TE-TOTALLEit. 

his  little  boy  when  under  the  in- 
fluence of  liquor  ;  he  did  not  know 
what  he  was  doing,  and  would  be 
shocked  if  told,  when  in  his  sober 
senses,  that  he  would  be  guilty  of 
such  a  horrible  crime.  But  the  evil 
spirit  had  possession  of  him,  and  he 
was  no  longer  his  own  master ;  he 
did  not  go  any  morning  into  the 
room  where  his  unoffending  and 
suffering  little  boy  was  crouched  in 
silent  terror,  and  begin  his  brutal 
work,  till  he  had  first  taken  away 
his  reason,  and  made  a  perfect  mad- 
man of  himself,  by  putting  the 
bottle  to  his  lips.  This  man  will 
go  to  prison  and  to  death.  And 
what  think  you,  John  ?  In  which 
?vay  would  he  have  been  most  likely 


THE    TE-TOTALLER.  17 

to ;  sign  away  his  liberty;'  by  putting 
his  name  to  the  temperance  pledge, 
and  continuing  an  affectionate  fa- 
ther and  respected  neighbour,  or  by 
giving  himself  up,  body  and  soul, 
to  be  the  slave  of  intemperance, 
and  being  shut  up  in  prison,  to  be 
brought  out  only  for  execution? 

"  I  could  go  on,  my  boys,  for  days 
and  days,  giving  you  one  instance 
after  another  of  the  brutalizing 
effect  of  the  use  of  ardent  spirits. 
Do  we  ever  see  a  newspaper  that 
has  not  some  accounts  of  horrid 
murders,  or  other  dreadful  deeds 
committed  while  the  persons  were 
maddened  by  strong  drink  ?  And 
these  men  are  not  all  of  them  the 

brutes  you  would  suppose  them  to 
2* 


18  THE    TE-TOTALEER. 

be,  from  merely  reading  the  ac- 
counts of  their  crimes.  Many  of 
them,  when  in  their  senses,  are  kind 
and  affectionate,  and  would  shrink 
with  horror  from  the  bare  mention 
of  the  deeds  they  are  left  to  commit 
when  the  fiend  Intemperance  has 
them  under  his  control,  and  in 
many  cases  their  suffering  from 
remorse  is  far  greater  than  that 
caused  by  the  fear  of  punishment. 
So  you  see,  John,  what  it  is  to  be- 
come so  addicted  to  this  habit,  that 
you  will  have  no  longer  power  to 
resist  its  influence.  Be  wise,  my 
boy,  in  time,  and,  while  you  have 
the  power  to  do  so,  preserve  your 
liberty  by  putting  your  name  to  the 
total  abstinence  pledge 


THE    TE-TOTALLER.  19 

"Thus  far  I  have  spoken  prin- 
cipally of  the  good  or  injury  done 
to  yourself  by  signing  or  not  sign- 
ing this  pledge,  but  I  would  say  one 
word  to  you  upon  the  influence 
you  may  have  upon  others.  You 
have  influence,  John,  and  so  have 
we  all,  and  are  exercising  it  for 
good  or  eyil  every  hour  of  our  lives. 
Many  will  be  emboldened  by  your 
example  to  go  on  in  the  way  of  ruin 
if  you  continue  in  it,  or  if  you  turn 
now  and  show  that  you  are  deter- 
mined to  come  out  on  the  side  of 
temperance,  you  will  be  surprised 
to  see  how  many  will  go  with  you 
or  follow  you  in  this  wise  step. 

"  Your  father  tells  me,  John,  that 
he  intends  to  give  you  a  college 


20  THE    TE-TOTALEER. 

education.  I  always  tremble  for  a 
young  man  when  I  See  him  going 
to  college,  or  entering  into  business, 
where  he  will  be  thrown  among 
other  young  men,  and  I  think  it  is 
some  safeguard  to  be  a  member 
of  a  temperance  society.  I  have 
known  young  men  go  to  college, 
who  wrould  have  no  objections  (if 
urged  at  any  time  to  do  so)  to 
putting  their  names  to  a  temper- 
ance pledge;  but  not  having  this 
safeguard,  they  were  very  easily 
laughed  out  of  any  objections  they 
might  make  to  joining  their  gay 
companions  in  drinking  and  riot- 
ing :  wrhile,  if  they  had  been  able 
(when  urged  to  drink)  to  speak  up 
boldly,  and   as  if  they  gloried  in 


THE    TE-T0  TALLER.  21 

the  declaration,  and  say,  ;  I  thank 
you,  but  I  am  a  member  of  the 
temperance  society!'  no  more  at- 
tempts would  have  been  made  to 
induce  them  to  join  the  revellers 

"  I  do  not  think  that  a  party  of 
young  men  could  be  found  any- 
where in  these  days,  who  would 
dare  to  urge  another  to  drink,  or 
attempt  to  laugh  him  out  of  his 
determination,  after  he  had  boldly 
made  such  a  declaration  as  that. 
They  would  feel  it  to  be  rather  a 
reproach  to  themselves,  and  respect 
him  the  more. 

"  But  I  have  seen  these  young 
men,  of  whom  I  was  speaking, 
after  being  a  term  or  two  in  college, 
begin   to  get  up   in   the  morning 


22  THE    TE-TOTALLER. 

with  Hushed  cheeks  and  blood- 
shot eyes,  while  an  anxious  inothe? 
wondered,  without  suspecting  the 
cause,  what  sad  change  had  come 
over  her  son.  I  have  read  in  his 
face  the  story  of  the  last  night's 
folly  and  crime ;  and  I  have  read 
farther :  I  have  looked  ahead,  and 
not  very  far  either,  and  have  seen 
the  gray  hairs  of  that  mother 
brought  with  sorrow  to  the  grave, 
and  that  young  nun  ending  his 
days  in  disgrace  and  infamy,  in- 
stead of  being,  as  he  might  have 
been,  an  ornament  to  society  and  a 
blessing  to  the  world. " 

"  Here,  Harry,"  cried  John, "  give 
me  your  paper ;  I  will  put  my  name 
to  it.  and  I  will  try  my  best  to  gei 


THE    TE-TOTALLER.  23 

all  the  boys  I  know  to  join,  and 
perhaps  father  will  too.  I  wish  you 
would  be  so  kind  as  to  talk  to  my 
father,  Mr.  Mills ;  for  though  I  shall 
never  forget  all  that  you  have  said 
to  me  this  evening,  yet  I  cannot  say 
it  to  him  as  you  can.  I  thank  you. 
sir ;  and  I  thank  you,  Harry.  And  I 
feel  that  the  efforts  you  have  both 
made  for  me  will,  perhaps,  be  the 
means  of  saving  me  from  dying  the 
death  of  a  drunkard/' 

"  There  is  another  thing  I  would 
gladly  save  you  from,  John.  And 
here  I  would  speak  to  my  Harry 
as  well  as  you.  By  joining  the 
temperance  society,  you  may  be 
kept  from  the  commission  of  some 
great  sins,  and  escape  some  terrible 


24  THE    TE-T0TAEI,ER. 

evils  in  this  life,  but  it  can  do  no- 
thing for  you  in  the  world  to  come. 
Nothing  but  a  hope  in  Jesus  can 
save  you  from  eternal  death !  By 
taking  the  temperance  pledge,  you 
may  be  freed  from  the  evils  of  in- 
temperance ;  but  by  taking  the  yoke 
of  Christ  upon  you,  you  become  free 
from  the  i  bondage  of  sin  and  death,' 
and  are  brought  into  the  '  glorious 
liberty  of  his  gospel.'  Give  your 
hearts  to  him  then,  my  boys,  and 
you  will  know  by  happy  experience 
what  is  that  'liberty  wherewith 
Christ  maketh  free.' " 


THE    END. 


*■*: 


mm 


W^-  « 


